About a year ago, some stuff happened.
It looked something like this, only not.
An injury.
Nearly 12 months later, I find out what is going to heal on its own, would have by now.
I'm not good at accepting that.
But there are some therapies that are show promise. Believe it or not, the health system pays for me to go to mindfulness classes. As if this is the glue that will help pull the pieces back together.
I'm beginning to realize, even if I could find all the little missing shards, it won't be what it was before.
Not the same.
But it's a really cute mug... I mean, it's the only life I have.
So what do I do?
I look at what remains. Find something to fill in the gaps. Hope.
Most of all, I repurpose.
They say it will help, but mindfulness, especially the guided stuff, bores the pants off me.
And yet, it meshes so well with my learning of photography and videography. The camera sees what's actually there. To capture the moment, we too need to see that moment. To be attentive, not with judgement, but with a curiosity of everything the camera sees and hears - and what it doesn't.
So maybe my instinct to make up for what I have lost from the written world by learning new visual skills, is a way of healing?
But also there is grief. But that's part of healing too.
This mug was a Christmas gift. Part of a set and all the others arrived with loving perfection except this poor shattered Dalek. I looked into different ways to repair him, and although I would love to one day try Kintsugi (金継ぎ) which is a repair with lacquer and gold and I'm told does such a good job the mug is 100% useable again. I couldn't find a traditional kit (most modern ones use chemicals that aren't food safe or heat resistant enough for tea) in my price range. Maybe one day.
For now, I have a protector for my fountain pens.
Use at your peril.
2 comments:
This is a beautiful post. The solution is quite profound in it's simplicity. Why do we humans have so much trouble accepting and adapting? I have no clue about that, but feel hope in what your words convey. A lesson for us all.
Thank you for sharing your reflections on this. I'm sorry there's no perfect mending technique for your injury; Kintsugi is a perfect metaphor in such circumstances.
As for mindfulness… There are so many ways to find it, to practice it, and it seems to me that you already have many in your life, so I'll just hope you can get through the classes and back to your own mindful practices without dying of boredom!
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